We Rocked and We Rolled

Saturday, the 18th, was strange. The boyfriend had a crappy week and was a liitle hesitant of going to the SaGuijo gig, which was a wee bit annoying because we already had planned this a week ago. But anyway, sometime before lunch he finally decided to tag along, and I was thinking in my head, "Don't you dare be mope-y in the gig." Grrr.

And man, did he surprise me (and Margie and Kristine, as well). In our 5 years together, I have never seen him get drunk, much less drink to rock music. He was always the sweet, healthy one; always grooving instead of rocking out. Don't get me wrong, I love him for what he is and what he is not, but my going out to watch bands and getting shit-faced drunk and slurring praises (phrases, mostly) to rockstars had always been a point of contention. He just never got it.

So, SaGuijo. Is a very clean place. It is softly-lit, with artsy patterns crawling like vines (wait, yes, vines indeed) on the walls. And a huge portrait of the Virgin Mary near the door. The people who were already there were young, polite, and again, clean. And glossy fashionable. Ah, so this is what kids wear nowadays to gigs. Whatever happened to the good old black on black gig staple?

Jazz Kidding plays, first band of the night. And I suddenly get the hordes of fashionistas. The guitarist is hot, his hair well zhuzhed. They play competent rock-jazz, but it's the drummer and the bassist that really kick ass. He (the bassist) has beautiful, long fingers that slide and slither up and down the 8th and 24th bars.

Twisted Halo. Loud, grrrr gutars that officially rocked the night. Rocking, yes, but no hooks to hang on to. But it didn't really matter. Especially to M.

Wilmer was on his third bottle when Cambio started playing. Wilmer. And Strong Ice. And rock music. Live. Can only co-exist in some distant parallel universe. He proved me wrong. And just had to love being wrong.

So when Sugarfree came around to playing hits like Burnout and Sinta, we totally rocked out. Margie and I were the quintessential fans, hugging and jumping along to the beat, getting almost teary-eyed when Ebe's voice soared above the guitars: Kay tagal din kitang minahal. Wilmer was already drinking Kristine's beer, and Kristine, always the cool one, was ... cool about everything, gently nodding to the hard-candy riffs of Sugarfree.

Oh, joy.

Of course, we all rolled home. Smiling, drunk, and yes, happy.